


the apple

by ndnickerson



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Angst, F/M, Prompt Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-21
Updated: 2010-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kahlan would change almost anything, if it meant being with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the apple

**Author's Note:**

> Set near the end of Season 1. Prompt: a souk (outdoor market) at story_lottery on LJ. Twist on a bookverse situation.

"Apple, miss?"

 

Kahlan's blue-eyed gaze was centered on the booth a few hundred yards away, where Richard was bargaining for a few rare herbs, when she felt a slight tug at her hooded cloak. A small girl, her dark hair in a tangle and her cheek smudged with dirt, held an equally dirty apron up as a makeshift basket. She proffered an apple.

 

Kahlan smiled, sliding her hand into her purse and finding a small coin worth easily three times as much as the apple. On their approach to the town, Kahlan and Richard had come through an apple orchard and collected as many as they could, treating the horses to the sweet, juicy fruit, and this apple looked a little worse for wear. Even so, the freshly turned earth marked with crosses for the dead and the wide, frightened eyes of the people in the village had already made her heartsore.

 

The little girl trembled a little when Kahlan offered her the coin, then took it slowly, stuffing it into a well-concealed pocket before handing Kahlan the apple. With a shy smile, she peered up at the Mother Confessor for a moment, then darted behind the wide rough skirts of her mother.

 

Kahlan, still holding the apple, glanced up with a smile lighting her own face, to see Richard walking toward her. When their gazes met, his gait slowed, and the last soft rays of the sunlight caught the edges of his light brown hair, turning it into a momentary halo as he returned a slow grin. Kahlan, only aware of her own euphoria when she thumped back down to earth, fidgeted with the belt around her forest-green riding suit.

 

She knew she shouldn't feel so betrayed, so frustrated, by what she had known practically since birth. She wasn't allowed love. Wasn't allowed to have this. It was the price of who she was.

 

But Richard, oh, when she looked at Richard, she wanted to defy everything she had been raised to believe. There would be no justice, no truth in this world if she could not be with him, if they could not find some way to be together. Once the first day of winter passed, if they managed to keep Darken Rahl from ending the world, part of her would still be bound up with him. Part of her would go with him when he left her to the Confessor's throne in Aydindril and went back to his own life in Hartland. Her despair at the thought made her wish, if only momentarily, that they had never met, that she had never known what her birthright denied her.

 

But, for now, she had an apple and the haloed warmth of his smile.

 

They walked hand in hand through the rest of the open market, between the stalls offering smoked meat, fresh bread, second-hand pots and bolts of soft woven cloth. Before he had known what she was, when she had just been a woman sent to give him the Book of Counted Shadows and assist him on his quest, she had been afraid of how deeply she had craved just the simple, trusting touch of his hand. He didn't shrink away from her. He didn't fear the destruction of her power, not even now, not even having seen what it would do.

 

Sometimes she wondered why nature had never seen fit to mark the Confessors in some visible way, something more than the symbol of their long hair or the glowing pure white of their gowns. No matter how much she loved him, she would always be a danger to him. She and Zedd both knew it. Even Richard's lighthearted assurance that she would never hurt him was of little comfort.

 

But he was unlike any man she had ever met, able to do things no one else had been able to do in hundreds of years. Maybe he was different, too, she thought, as his thumb stroked once, softly, down the side of her hand, sending a slow shiver down her spine.

 

Or maybe Zedd was right, and her biggest mistake had been in letting him see that his feelings were, in some degree, returned.

 

Kahlan sighed.

 

Immediately Richard turned to her, taking his gaze from a display of knives. "Kahlan? Are you all right?"

 

Kahlan smiled. "I'm fine. Just hoping Zedd has been able to find a hiding place."

 

"If anyone can keep the boxes of Orden out of Darken Rahl's hands, it's Zedd," he assured her. "You'll see. The first day of winter will be here before you know it." He squeezed her hand. "The world will be safe again."

 

Just like that. After all she had sacrificed, after everything they had lost, it was hard to imagine what would come next. The throne at Aydindril. The distrustful, fearful, and awestruck gazes of the petitioners as they brought their grievances to her. And a hunger, such a hunger for the touch of another person's hand against her skin. Without Richard, she would never have known how intoxicating it was. Confessors were never voluntarily touched, never touched with love, except by other Confessors. And there were so few left.

 

She would almost die, to be somehow able to take him as her mate. Richard, though, certainly would, driven mad by his inability to finish his quest. Even after, knowing him as she did, she could never willingly take his will and his reason from him, leaving nothing more than an empty slave with the face she loved.

 

She wanted to believe that the good spirits could not be so cruel as this, but if this war had taught her anything, it was that happiness wasn't a privilege or a right. It was earned, and it had to be protected, guarded, fought for, to be worth anything.

 

And she would fight for Richard, to the ends of the world and back.

 

Kahlan couldn't remember the last time she'd slept in a real bed, on a real mattress, under blankets that weren't soggy with the memory of rain or a trace of dew, but soldiers were occupying the town, and they hiked over the next hill before settling for the night under the boughs of a wayward pine. The bread they broke over their stew was less than a week old, though, and the musty pine needles were cushioned enough. Their horses muttered softly to each other as the first few raindrops began to fall. The tree's wide limbs kept most of the chill wind out, and when Richard offered her the last ladle full of soup, she only hesitated a moment before taking it.

 

Richard went out to check on the horses and Kahlan stripped off her belt and boots, her heavy hood, and wrapped herself securely in a thick, scratchy blanket. The heat of the fire glowed against the flesh above her leather bodice, lending a flush to her cheeks. Richard ducked back into the pine, shaking rainwater out of his hair, but slowed when he caught sight of her.

 

"Early night?"

 

"Don't tell me, you want to go hunting," she said wryly.

 

Richard shrugged. "We can always do with a few more rabbits, but we'll have plenty of time in the morning."

 

Kahlan nodded. "And we can stay in, out of the cold."

 

Richard took the Sword of Truth's scabbard from his belt and laid it down by his thigh, digging in his pack for his own spare blanket. Kahlan pulled an apple out of her bag, and took a large bite, licking the juice from the ridges left by her teeth.

 

Richard chuckled. "I'm surprised you have any taste for apples, after all we ate today."

 

"And you don't?" Kahlan leaned forward, keeping well clear of the fire, and held the apple to Richard's mouth. His gaze met hers as he opened his mouth, and she pressed it to his lips, letting him take a bite. Juice ran down his chin, and before Kahlan thought, she scooted closer and licked it off his stubbled flesh.

 

Richard's eyes were smoldering when Kahlan languidly lifted her lashes to gaze at him again. He chewed the bite of apple and swallowed it, and then, slowly, deliberately, closed the distance between them.

 

"Rich..."

 

Kahlan trailed off, closing her eyes, her lips parted as Richard slid his fingers up into her hair, the heel of his hand against the nape of her neck.

 

"Richard," she tried again, but her voice was weak. _I don't know if I can stop it. Not with you. Not like this._

 

"Yes, Kahlan?" He kissed the point of her chin.

 

Zedd was hiding the boxes of Orden. On the second day of winter, this would be over, one way or another. And Richard would make a good mate, a good father to another Confessor.

 

But that wasn't all she wanted.

 

Maybe it was all she could have.

 

Kahlan moaned at the wave of pure longing that crashed over her as Richard's mouth finally, slowly touched hers. Heat suffused her, from the confines of their shelter and the quietly snapping fire, and when he maneuvered her away from the flames, she let the blanket drop, leaving her only in her underskirt and her leather bodice. His fingers gently massaged her scalp, skated over her shoulder blades.

 

Maybe she would be different. Maybe they would be different.

 

She knew she would never be so lucky.

 

His mouth found the pressure point just under her jawline and she swiftly unbuttoned his shirt, craving nothing more than the texture of his skin against hers, fully against hers. His hands cupped her waist and he pulled her onto his lap, in a quick, rough movement, and Kahlan's legs were parted under the weight of her skirt. 

 

"I love you."

 

Kahlan pulled back. Her bodice had slipped down until it was barely containing her breasts, heaving as she panted for breath. Richard's hair was mussed from her fingers combing through it. For a second she went ice-cold, at the sudden fear that she had somehow unintentionally loosed her power and confessed him, but she tamped down her panic and felt it still coiled and warm in her, unspent.

 

All it would take was a second's loss of her control and he would be gone, forever.

 

Kahlan hung her head, pushing herself up on her knees, tugging her bodice up. "No," she whispered. "No."

 

Richard cupped her waist in his hands again. "Kahlan," he whispered, his voice still a little rough, "I love you."

 

She touched his face and smiled, but it didn't reach her blue eyes. "And I love you too much to do this."

 

He traced her jaw with the back of a finger and she collapsed, unwillingly, back to him, leaning forward until their foreheads were touching. "When this is over, when we've defeated Rahl, when you're back in Aydindril, I will find a way for us to get past this. If that's what you want. I'll find a way for us to be together."

 

She sighed and shook her head. "The only way we can be together is if I lose my power." A shivering breath passed her lips. "Because if I confess you, I'll lose you."

 

"Do you love me, Kahlan?"

 

Kahlan pulled back to look into his eyes. "You know I do. Even with everything I know, even with all the warnings Zedd keeps giving me, I do. And I wish I didn't."

 

He shook his head. "We love each other, Kahlan. And there's nothing right in this world if we save it and can't be together to see it." His eyes were as serious as she had ever seen them. "There is nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you."

 

Kahlan shook her head. "You're the most unusual man I've ever met, Richard Cypher."

 

Richard leaned in, and just before their mouths touched, he whispered, "You haven't seen anything yet, Kahlan Amnell."


End file.
